


Warmth

by ASignificantWhisper



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Menstruation Kink, Period Sex, Smut, Spit Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5504141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASignificantWhisper/pseuds/ASignificantWhisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'That was strangely pleasant.' As it turns out, Jerome Valeska finds another endeavour to be the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Anon received prompt from Tumblr. 
> 
> Read the tags, because it's your own fault if you don't, and you're grossed out. There's warnings in the tags, lol. Sorry if this isn't your cup of tea.
> 
> This is the most explicit and intense thing I've written in a while, so those of you that do like this/like Jerome this way-let me know? ;)

You roll your eyes at the tall ginger for what feels like the hundredth time since the day began. Why does he have to be annoying on top of being a fucking murderous nut job? You wiggle your way around his usual mid-morning antics, retrieving your cup of coffee. You don't really care for the bitter taste, but you crave something warm to help soothe your stomach. You plop down into the sofa chair, curling your jean clad legs into your chest.

You don't feel at all into wearing this shit, or messing with the loose ponytail that is your freshly showered hair. Forget the damn makeup, too. Jeans are your first and only attempted effort. If your boyfriend doesn't like it, well, tough. He can take it out on some other sloppy ass bitch or hobo, or old lady. Whatever he fancies slicing open this week.

You give another less than subtle eye roll, groaning over the biting sip from the caffeine charging your taste buds awake. Fucking idiot. Why does he have to be so messy, leaving his trail? You shrug yourself into a series of irritated grunts and insults thrown Jerome's way. It is dangerous, tempting him into hurting you by being downright pissy to him, but you find you can't help yourself. He's being a piss ant, and you've no patience for it this morning. You're expected to placate his moods, well, he can do the same for you.

 

"You're acting like my mother." You hear the words slink out of that deep voice that joins you in the room within seconds.

 

Your head snaps up from the ceramic, a swallowing hiss working itself around in your throat. "I'm nothing like that dried up, chopped up, old dead whore. Watch your mouth, Jerome. I mean it," You retort chillingly calmly, your posture slinking once you take notice of how badly you may have just fucked up. That's the thing though, you note, gripping onto your belly as the next sharp stab tackles its way around your insides. This is painful. It hurts. So fuck him right now.

Jerome, ever the surprise, shrugs a robe clad shoulder instead of lashing out. "Hmm. True. So let's not bring her back around in spirit, sugar. You know what that'll cause me to do. And you're too pretty to do away with. I'm thinkin'.... maybe cut off your tongue? But then again, my cock won't stimulate itself, now will it?"

 

"You really have learned a lot about being a stupid smut mouth, haven't you?" You all but bark, going back to your steaming mug.

 

Jerome settles onto the couch across from you, flopping on his back and leveling a leg over the back of it. He peeks at you through those long lashes, the green gaze piercing your stomach into a different kind of ache. It's silence for a few minutes until Jerome sits back up, elbow propping on his knee, palm to his chin, scrutinizing you under his gaze. "Has someone else been inside of you, Y/N?"

 

The exact moment the words tumble past his lips you're all but loosing your coffee to the floor. You gape at him, jaw dropping, settling your cup down because it feels too full for your hands. What is he getting at? That because you have a voice that you're screwing some other chump? You stammer yourself into his welcoming sneer.

 

"That's it, isn't it? Some other disgusting, pathetic creep is touching you."

 

Jerome takes your shell shocked silence as his answer, his playful demeanor evaporating into this anger pit that you've not quite seen in him before. You're wide eyed watching him rise from the couch, stepping to tower over you. He's dangerously close to your face, his hot breath fanning his scent against your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick the ghostly air of his taste, your body proving its monthly mess is in charge, shoving you to crave him despite the alarm you should harbor.

 

"Where did he stick it in you?" He's investigating out your form, swallowing into the tense veins that were shaped against his jugular.

 

You cannot help yourself. Your fingers reach out to stroke his cheek, instead getting a grasped wrist and an anxiety growing Jerome. He's panicked, barking mad. You start to rear back into the cushions, wanting to sink in. You haven't let anyone fuck you except for the ginger. You never could, and you most likely never will. He's all you see. Others won't get this. What you and Jerome have....

 

"No one has touched me, but have they touched you? Look at you... You talk different, you act different."

 

Jerome, it's as if he chooses not to hear you, or can't. He pushing back his robe to shove his pajama pants and boxers down. He starts to spit into his hand, roughing out a command to you. "Take off your panties, then watch me as you rub yourself. I want you soaking wet for me, Y/N. Hurry, we've got to... I've got to make you mine again."

 

You sit here, stunned like no other with Jerome spitting into his palm and dribbling it onto his cock. He's hard within moments, growling with your still dressed form.

 

You drink him in, so hard and big already.

 

"You're mine! Do you understand me? I-I have to fix this. I have to be inside of you, Y/N! Because after I make you come, after I come in you, I'm going out to find your lover boy, I hope you understand what will happen to him?"

 

"Jerome, I don't have anyone, you--"

 

He's cutting you off with a yank. He's tugging you down to him, on his bent knees at the end of your sofa chair, by your ankles, trying to get your jeans off your legs. Normally, you'd want this. Hell, you do now. But when you feel the release of fluid with the sudden movement, you halt him, flushing. So fucking mad again. How dare he accuse you, get you this worked up?

 

"Y/N, Y/N," Jerome repeats like a praying mantra, rising up to cup your cheek with timid fingers. He looks parched, pupils blown, angry, but so hollow and dank with sadness. That emotion rapidly snaps to pieces, the anger restarting. "Y/N, look at me. I stretched you open for the first time. That moment. You cried when I finally got into your body, gorgeous, do you remember? But you loved me being buried in between your legs. You wrapped them around me, your pussy welcomed me."

You meet him forehead to forehead, nodding in agreement. He is a freight train that you have to let vent out his frustrations before you can rationalize with him.

 

"And the first time you straddled my face, do you forget what happened?"

 

You shake your head, his firm grasp tugging you to him by your chin, your mouths so close to the kiss you want to get lost in. You're an aching mess between your thighs and Jerome knows it. He drops his hands to push your legs apart by your knees, his hand cupping your pussy through the jean fabric. You thank fuck you remembered to put in a tampon after you woke up.

 

"You started trembling, and then you came. But you it dripped from you, didn't it? Like a fountain. I made you squirt, gorgeous. I'll bet he can't do that?"

 

"There is no one. Jerome, please," You nearly whisper, closing your legs. "I can't."

 

"Don't lie to me, gorgeous. You won't like what happens. Oh, I won't hurt you but I'll hurt him."

 

You've had it now. You're embarrassed, horny, frustrated. You shove Jerome hard by his shoulders, slapping a hand across his cheek until it leaves a mark as angry as you are, his hand dropping off his cock at the situation's pace.

 

"Fuck you, you cuntface, whore bastard! It's you who's probably going out on me. I've never touched anyone else, but now that you've presented me with the idea..." You huff out, stomping your bare foot into the rug.

 

Jerome is snarling, those luscious white teeth bared. He's up, shoving you until your shoulders are one with the wall. "You ever hit me again, Y/Last/N...."

 

"You'll what? Chop me up, you loose son of a bitch?"

 

Jerome doesn't hesitate to lay a resounding slap back across your cheek. You're geared up the second his fingers graze your skin. You lick your lips, watching his mouth part to say something to you in response, and that's when you take your chance. You spit right into his mouth, smirking upon your saliva's arrival on his tongue. Mhm. Looks so good, you agree. He tests, tastes the rude gesture, looking to you with a heat swirling around him in an aura.

 

"Doll, fuck I need you." Jerome ruts against you, anger punching out in diminishes, his hard on protruding up against his stomach, the pre-cum beading on the tip, staining the silk of his red robe.

 

You shake your head so hard that it hurts you. All your emotions not making any sense in the moment. You feel those embarrassing, hormonal tears cloud your vision. Jerome is tilting his head, quite utterly confused. You push him back and run to the bedroom, slamming the door and latching the lock. Jerome is there in seconds flat. It's threats, questions, yelling, beating on the door. You curl up onto your side, securing your knees into your chest to ease the oncoming presence of cramps.

~*~  
You awake to the darkness casting through the sheer curtains. Confused, you look to the typical beside clock, seeing it evening, sun just gone down. The events rush back to you in tangled jumbles, causing your attention to churn towards the still locked door. You know he can get through that, and to be honest, you're 50/50 on him even succeeding to try. You shove your body out of the sheets, padding into the master bathroom, deciding to pull on your silk night gown. You wash your face, brush your teeth and messy hair, using the toilet before you trudge back into bed.

 

You ball the tan sheets around you, attempting to curl away from it all. You want him so badly, but you can't. And you hurt, you fucking ache everywhere. Your body is sore, parts rolling to be released. It's a few ticking minutes more that pass, and that's when you hear it. The loud chainsaw. Your eyes widen, panicked. You're small, petrified at the blade cutting the door enough for your boyfriend to step in. He's huffing and puffing that broad chest out.

 

Jerome tosses the chainsaw at his feet after cutting the motor, stepping in the room. You notice that he hadn't changed. He swipes the smoke from the weapon out of his way, crawling into the bed with you. It's an unspoken thing. You know he's been here all day. You just can't figure out why he didn't barge in here?

You turn away from the redhead, shifting the bed sheets around you in a cocoon. You want him out of your face, before you spit in his yet again. But Jerome, Jerome obviously isn't having this. He grips your hip, rolling you over to face him by a strong hand. He's inching closer until your noses brush, his fingers caressing your legs until his hand works between the limbs. As he reaches your panties, you shift rapidly, your cheeks warming. "Jerome, don't-"

 

"You want me. I can tell. You always want me." His fingers push aside your underwear, you clench your eyes shut upon contact, the messy stimulation of his fingers teasing you oh so right, startling that ache sharp in between your legs. "Mhm, see? You're so wet. You feel.."

 

You hear the hitch in his breathing, bravely forcing your lids open. He's holding his fingers, covered in your arousal, but layered with a top sheet of crimson. He eyes them under intense observation, looking to you, to his fingers. You swallow a knot in your throat, curling into the sheet, your voice quiet. "I told you. I couldn't. I can't, Jerome."

 

He raises a brow, his features caving into this manic smile. You watch the green fade into a pool of black in his eyes. He licks his lips, swirling his fingertips together to smear the evidence on the digits. You edge up on your elbow, voice rough and hoarse. You're so close to Jerome, mildly as fascinated with his fascination. His clean hand raises to stroke down the side of your neck, stopping to squeeze the soft top of your breast when he decides to speak.

 

"Oh, gorgeous. Why didn't you just tell me? Your body is shedding its skin like a snake," he seethes the words, excited, scooting closer to you on his knees. "you're just bleeding between your legs. Nothing wrong with that. It makes you feel..." He sucks in sharply, eyes falling closed. "warm inside. And I want your warmth, I want to be inside of it as it happens."

 

"You do? It doesn't.. freak you out?" Your nightgown strap drifts down your shoulder against your body shifting to reach Jerome's proximity.

 

He chortles, reaching out to brush his thumb down your bottom lip. "Gorgeous, that's the last thing it does. It's your curse for biting into the forbidden fruit, isn't it? How could any man be bothered by such a natural thing?"

 

"You're not most men, Jerome. You spill blood for the hell of it."

 

"For the hell of it," Jerome echoes with you, twisting a nod. "so I'm not seeing the problem here. If my lady needs me, I'll service her. She's so... ripe right now. Glowing. Flushed. Aren't you, Y/N?"

 

You pathetically concur, drawing patterns on his knuckles. Jerome is looking at you, the green completely diminished to a mere bright ring in his eyes the next time you meet his orbs. He's fascinated, eager. You grab at your stomach again, Jerome's hand following yours.

 

"Does it hurt, Y/N?"

 

You're muffled as you answer, but it doesn't stop you. "It does, Jerome."

 

"Then ask me to make it better for you and I will... Please, gorgeous?" He's knees to thighs with you now. You give in not a moment too soon, crashing your lips to his. You fight it out for dominance, your tongue pushing his back, your teeth biting into his skin. He gets you back, drawing blood from your top lip this time, licking the copper up. You crinkle your nose causing Jerome to smile into your kiss. He's going back with you onto the bed, your hand raises to shove him briefly, clambering from the bed.

 

"What is it, my sweet Y/N? I told you...." He gives an exasperated sigh.

 

"Just hold on a minute, okay?" You're in the bathroom again, removing your lace panties and tampon discretely, leaving you in your night grown. Grabbing up a towel and hobbling back into the room, you lay it down, Jerome raising a red brow, muttering about how he doesn't care if the evidence marks the sheets.

Climbing in beside Jerome, your anxiety spikes at the vulnerability about to be stripped for his eyes. You shift your bottom onto the white towel, looking up into your psychopath's eyes. Your heart hammers against your rib cage, your fingers pinched into your palms that are clenched into fists at your sides. Jerome is already removing his clothing until he's naked for your sights. You feast on him like a hungry wolf, animalistic, carnal, raw, filthy as you check him out. Those taunt nipples, that physique, to the patch of red hair above his cock.

 

"You're so beautiful," You mutter like the lovesick fool you are.

 

Jerome is smirking, dragging you up by your right arm. "Take your gown off for me."

 

You do so without hesitation, your nipples immediately reacting to the cool air. Jerome bends down to take the pink bud in between his teeth, biting down hard to get your attention heightened. His lips enclose to suckle the slight sting away, his other hand gripping your right thigh and tugging it back behind him, around his waist. "Face me and hold on tight, gorgeous."

 

You aren't expecting this. Jerome usually wants it quick and hard. Him on top or you riding him. However, you're both on your sides facing one another, your legs wrapped around his waist. This entwined position has you open and intimate with him. Your breathing elevates, causing your chest to puff out, your nipples to scrape his skin. He reaches between you to swipe his fingers through your heat, palming himself with your arousal. It's so much. Too much. You shift yourself around in the bed, your toes tapping against Jerome's ass. He's the one pulling you from the closeness of panic.

 

"What do ya say, gorgeous? Let me capture a taste of your curse?"

 

You loose the ability to properly answer him. You toss your hands to his shoulders to brace, your toes feeling the muscles in his lower back, his ass react to his abrupt thrust inside you. His hips smack against yours in his welcomed invasion of your pussy, which rejoices, the cramping subsiding because Jerome Valeska prevails mother nature. This engulfing position is so closely bound that when Jerome moves, you move too. When you shake, he shakes with you. His hands are holding onto you possessively in two separate places ; the back of your neck, the other on your thigh, that is wound around him.

 

"So... warm. I can't," Jerome coos, pressing his lips to your jaw, biting, kissing, sucking.

 

His thrusts are so calculated, so achingly anchored that you're driven into his embrace with every one, his scent trapping you, spreading through your veins. The film of sweat layers both your meeting bodies, holding you together where you belong. You cry out, bucking into him, so soaked, so slick for him. You're too far gone now to give a fuck about modest messiness. You look in between the two of you to see a deep red stain soaked into the towel, your thighs smeared with red. That doesn't get you, though, no. When Jerome's cock hits you in that special way, in this new way, you shout his name so loud you forget how to breathe. It's cursing coming from him, fiery groans.

 

Jerome is mumbling at your mouth, babbling about the blood he feels coat his cock each time he fucks you both further to the edge. His hips jar, and you feel your body give way to the natural flow.

 

"Fuck, you're so warm, Y/N. You're so good for me. Bleeding out for me right now. Do you know it feels as if you're coming all over me each time I do... " High strung gasps you both make, very aware as Jerome rolls his hips back and pumps his cock into you so hard, the sound your flesh makes colliding has you almost missing his next words. "this?"

 

You're stark raving mad with the need to come. You loose yourself, loose control and give in. Your hand doubles across his cheek to leave an imprint, he's reaching down to pinch your clit between his thumb and index finger in a part one response. "Again, gorgeous."

 

You toss a half-assed slap this time, your hands whirling around his neck, tugging at his hair, your toes shoving at his ass to encourage him.

 

"Please, Jerome, please?" You beg, choking on a whine.

 

He isn't in the mood to tease you, no, not now.

 

"Yes, Y/N, yes, " He complies, his finger exercising your clit in time with your now combined thrusts. Jerome is sporadic, pouring out your name in cries against your neck. You feel it ball up your toes, lock your legs, lick the muscles in your stomach, until you are a screaming mess of profanities.

 

"Jerome! Jerome! Oh, fuck!"

 

Jerome is tipping, swaying right there. You tighten yourself, releasing the hold and that does him in. His breath trembles, he burrows into your neck and shakes as he comes inside you, powering down breathlessly. You fall against each other in a sticky heap, not minding. It's not long before Jerome is pulling out, the mixture of your cum with his, your blood covering his cock, the towel, your thighs. He groans, his eyes sparkling with that excited shine you will never bore of. He pays attention to the mess on you, the towel, a wide grin ravaging his features. He looks up at you, voice low and thick.

 

"That was strangely pleasant. Let's do it again."


End file.
